


Lean on Me

by Novaforever



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novaforever/pseuds/Novaforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles in which Santana has friends. Written as unseen shots of friendship in glee canon, so Brittana angst throughout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Santana + Marley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [socallmedaisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/socallmedaisy/gifts).



> Glee doesn't like writing about friendships, a fact that makes socallmedaisy and myself very sad, so I wrote this for her birthday to try and fix all the lost opportunities for friendships on that show. It turned into Santana just being friends with people. 
> 
> Chapter one: spoilers through 4.08 - Thanksgiving.

"What is this? Hmm? And don't tell me it is because the cafeteria food binds you up."

"Those are from, like, months ago. I forgot they were even in there."

Santana leveled a stare at Marley. The hasty excuse struck a chord in her. With a sigh she grabbed Marley by the wrist and pulled her away from the drifting notes of Gangnam Style backstage into the anonymity of the black curtains. Marley tripped along behind her, struggling to keep up with the fast clip of Santana's heels.

"I've heard that excuse before," Santana hissed out as she swung Marley by the arm to face her. "In fact, I was the one giving it."

Marley's face crumpled as her mentor's words sunk in. 

"Oh please. I was head cheerleader on a nationally ranked team with a coach as crazy as Courtney Love on a good day. The amount of pressure I had on my shoulders on a daily basis would make your Dickens-esque pauper head spin," Santana said with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

Grey eyes darted nervously to the floor and the younger girl fidgeted in front of her. Santana's hand twitched at her side. Comfort wasn't really her thing (especially if the intended recipient lacked blond hair and startling blue eyes), but she had a job to do here. If she was going to be a mentor for this 'New Rachel' then she was going to be the best damn mentor there ever was.  
At least a hell of a lot better of a mentor than Fabray to her psycho spawn. 

Santana shifted awkwardly and wrapped her arms around herself. 

"Look I don't really do this often, okay?" Santana whispered gruffly. "So I'm gonna need you to listen up 'cause you are only gonna hear this once, alright?"  
"I know how it feels to be under pressure. To feel that the eyes of the whole world are on you, judging you. It sucks, but when you have innate, jaw dropping talent it is something that you have to just accept."

Marley blinked at the undisguised compliment to her abilities. Santana threw a hand up to stop any more acknowledgments of what she had just said.

"And sometimes you are gonna break and cave to demands. No matter what song or idiotic theme man boobs over there comes up with, we aren't all superheroes," Santana said quietly. "But, if we are lucky, we have our own Lois Lane to back us up when we feel weak."

Blonde hair and blue eyes sprung to mind and Santana can picture the tears that were swimming in them when she pulled Santana's collection of diet pills out of her bag. 

"You just need that one person to be able to lean on," Santana continues encircling herself once more. "I was lucky enough to have a best friend I could depend on with my life. And in the end that weakness made me come out stronger: as this fucking flawless woman before you."

Marley bit her lip unsurely and glanced at the stage again, toeing the floor nervously while she eyed the black curtains enclosing them.

"Um...wasn't your best friend Brittany? I thought you two were dating? Does that mean you and me-"

Santana's eyes widened and her hands shot up in between them. 

"Whoa there Oliver Twist, you have to be at least eighteen to ride this. And you are missing the point here."

Santana walked behind her mentee and put her hand on Marley's lower back to push her towards a break in the curtains. In front of them the other glee members pranced around on the stage in an embarrassing version of PSY's style. 

"You don't need a Lois Lane, Copperfield," Santana tilted her head towards the glee club. "You've got a whole Justice League out there backing you up."

A small grin crept onto Marley's face as she let Santana push her out from the curtains and back into the lights of the auditorium stage. 

"Um Santana," Marley asked quietly, unsure if this was a point in their heart to heart when questions would be allowed.

"Yeah?"

"Did you learn your Superman references from Sam?"

"Just shut up and learn your fucking horse dance."


	2. Santana + Quinn + Brittany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers through 4.08 - Thanksgiving

Brittany was always the glue that held them together. Quinn always had to win and Santana always had to be on top, so everything inevitably spiraled into some sort of twisted competition with Brittany on the sidelines trying to play the peacemaker. 

It worked, too. 

One touch from Brittany's calming hand and Santana could literally feel the fight drain out of her. Quinn fared no better as no one was exempt from the power of Brittany's pout. By the time the trio had hit sophomore year it was pretty much just part of the circle of life; Quinn would taunt, Santana would lash back, and Brittany would bring the forces of chaos back into balance. 

(Brittany for whatever reason would always recite the old spelling mnemonic of 'friends 'til the end.' Santana only thought it was apropos because Quinn and her definitely _would_ be the end of each other.)

That sense of competition certainly didn't die out after high school either. Santana may live almost a thousand miles away from Quinn now, but the distance never smothered the spark that always ignited between them when they were in the same place for more than a few minutes at a time. 

And if Quinn was going to mentor that rage inducing little clone then Santana was going to mentor her charge even better.

She was going to mentor the shit out of that street urchin. 

Plus everyone knows that Rachel Berry might have given Santana migraines on a daily basis, but her talent always wiped the floor with Fabray. This 'New Rachel' would do just the same with Quinn 2.0.

Then, after Marley killed it at Sectionals and Quinn's little shadow was shamed into the ground, Santana could rightfully take her place at the top of the metaphorical pyramid and shove it in Fabray's face just how much she needs to get her shit together to even hope to compete on the same level as herself. 

At least that was what Santana thought as her head whipped to the side with the force of Quinn's slap.

The thunder of her own slap ricocheted through the choir room instantly. 

"What are you guys doing?" the familiar voice called out into the room, sinking like a sedative into Santana's veins.

"Nothing," Quinn replied with that damn shit eating grin. "Nothing at all."

The click of Quinn's heels faded into the hallway leaving the uncomfortable curtain of silence that was so common this past month whenever Brittany was left alone with Santana. 

"Quinn always was a genius slapper," Santana said quietly before turning to face the other important blonde in her life. "But she is crashing and burning all over again and you should have sat this one out for once. Maybe if we had been alone longer I could have slapped some sense into her."

Brittany cocked an eyebrow at her ex before spinning gracefully on her heel and trailing out of the room in the direction Quinn had just disappeared. 

"Or maybe she could have slapped some into you," her voiced echoed back from the hallway.


	3. Santana + Mike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers through 4.08 - Thanksgiving

Santana slid down to perch herself on the edge of the stage, legs swinging and kicking out in front of her as she waited impatiently. The loud thuds from her heels colliding with the hollow wood of the stage reverberated through the empty auditorium. She leaned forward a bit, letting the curtain of her hair cover up her smile as she felt her friend sit gracefully next to her. 

"You look a little better than when I last saw you," Mike commented with a wry grin.

Her shoulders lifted halfheartedly into a shrug.

"Guess I had a lot of shit to work through."

"Uh huh," Mike's grin widened. "And which of your Louisville friends helped you out with that?"

Mike's grin was met with an equally exaggerated eye roll. They both knew how many hours Santana had spent on the phone with him simply crying while he listened quietly, trying to be there for her despite being halfway across the country. 

(It was the reverse circumstances of what had happened at the end of summer, when she was silently there for Mike when Tina had unexpectedly ended their relationship.)

"I thought you were going to die smiling or have some sort of breakdown after 'Grease.' Seeing that much emotion from you without alcohol being involved always throws me off," Mike added.

"Urgh, shut up Boy Chang. At least I wasn't trailing after the completely insignificant Jan like some sort of Shih tzu."

"Probably 'cause you were too busy staring at Cha Cha's ass."

Santana's head tilted back towards the rafters as she barked out a laugh. 

"We really are hopeless, huh?"

Mike quietly picked at the stage for a few moments, avoiding Santana's eyes.

"Actually, Tina and I talked a bit during the musical. We might revisit things in a little bit." 

At his words Santana could feel her memories of backstage conversations with Brittany flood her mind and her heart clenched involuntarily.

"That's great Mike," she said as she licked her dry lips. "You guys were meant to be together and have far too similarly named children."

Brown eyes scanned her face and Santana leaned forward slightly to let her hair curtain her face once more.

"You know, it's a lot harder for you to cover up your thoughts when we don't have a phone line and a thousand miles between us," Mike said quietly. 

Santana lets out a small sigh. She knows that she should talk about someone about what is going through her mind. Really, she does. She also knows that she felt better after crying to Mike all those weeks ago, so theoretically she will feel even better after using words instead of just broken sobs to express her thoughts. 

"Brittany and I talked a bit during 'Grease' as well," Santana started haltingly.

"Santana, that's great!" Mike exclaimed with a grin.

"She made some...hints about us being together," Santana explained before pausing. "I told her that she should move on again. She needs to move on."

She could see Mike's grin melt away, confusion replacing it on his features. Santana skin prickled under his calculating gaze as it scanned her face. This definitely wasn't as easy as their silent phone calls.

"Do you know what you looked like when Tina broke up with you?" Santana hissed out. "'Cause I know what Brittany looked like. Crushed. I had to sit there and look her in the eyes as I tore her heart apart. Watch as she cried for hours afterward."

Mike continued to stare at her silently. Santana fought to maintain eye contact.

"I don't deserve her forgiveness for that," she finally whispered, the sentence still sounding loud in the empty auditorium.

Silence stretched between them, but somehow it was less comforting than their quiet phone conversations.

"Santana," Mike breathed, gaze unwavering. "It doesn't matter."

She snorted loudly.

"No listen to me," Mike said, brushing aside her disagreement. "Tina broke up with me and I'm man enough to admit that I cried for days. And you know what? If she told me she wanted to get back together I would be there by her side in a heartbeat."

Santana tore her eyes away from Mike's penetrating gaze to stare at her shoes, letting his words wash over her. Brittany's tear stained face came to mind again and she fought back a wince at the memory. Forgiveness was too much to ask or hope for in her case. 

She can feel Mike clamber to his feet next to her. 

"Look you know I'll always be there for you, even if it is just as a silent phone call," Mike said softly as she watched his sneakers fidget out of the side of her vision. "But maybe you should stop condemning yourself and pushing her away because one day you might not find her pushing back."

The sound of Mike's name being called cuts into the tension on the stage and Tina appears out of the curtained wings. Santana blinked against the auditorium lights to see Tina's hand wrap itself around Mike's bicep. Even from her spot perched on the opposite side of the stage she can see his eyes beaming back at Chang number two and sadness floods her chest.

Tina giggled as she tugged his arm to lead him away. Mike spun backwards to give a final piercing stare Santana's way.

"Just think about it, okay?" 

Santana gave a hesitant nod, watching Mike get pulled away, eyes trailing over the way Tina clung tightly to his arm. The heavy silence of the auditorium pressed in on her, but Mike's message echoed in her mind. 

Her eyes fluttered closed as Mike and Tina retreat behind the curtains, trying to recall all the times Brittany had guided her like that, but all she sees are the blonde's tear filled eyes.


	4. Santana + Aphasia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers through 2.15 - Sexy. Thanks to Spearleader for making me sound remotely competent at writing Aphasia.

BZZT BZZT

Santana glanced down from the Jersey Shore marathon she was pretending to be interested in to her cell phone where it vibrated against the coffee table. There weren’t many people she was enthused to hear from right now (only Brittany really, and she hadn’t been hearing from her much since Britt picked hot wheels over her stunning, tear ridden confession of love a week ago). She reached down and cautiously checked the screen and felt her heart bottom out when she didn’t see her best friend’s name on the screen.

Unknown number.

Who the _hell_ had her number that she didn’t know? With a swipe of her finger, Santana unlocked the phone to see who was rude enough to interrupt her important wallowing session with Snooki.

_bitch get ur pasty ass off the couch and meet me in 20_

Well that solved the mystery of the anonymous texter. Santana gave a last glance towards the decidedly more pasty Jersey crew before getting up with a huff.

She needed a good cigar anyway.

 

\----------

 

Santana slammed her car door as she stomped over into the shadows behind her favorite Speedway gas station, picking her way through the beer bottles left around the dumpsters by other teenagers. As soon as she got close she could see a cloud of smoke trailing out of the dark corner and she knew she had guessed her texter correctly.

“How did you even get my number again, ‘Phasia?”

“Bitch, how didn’t I get your number sooner when all dem boys on the west side be holdin’ it on their phones.”

Santana glared at her former Lima Heights bestie where she leaned up against the cinder block wall. No one talked to her like that. Even the white rhino got smacked down for giving her lip. But Aphasia? Well. Who knew what she was packing in her boots today.

“Whatever, I did not come all the way out here to listen to your broke ass. So you betta be sharin’ those stogies or I’m out.”

With a grin Aphasia opened up her leather jacket and pulled another cigar out of her inner pocket. Santana snatched it away and leaned forward, letting Aphasia move in to light her cigar with her own. Her tongue rolled the smoke and she let the flavor sink into her.

Damn that hit the spot.

“That’ll be twenty bucks.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Santana screeched. “This isn’t even a real Cuban, bitch!”

Aphasia threw her head back and her throaty laughter filled the air.

“Calm yo’ ass down. You know I gotchu. First one’s on the house today. You’ll be back later for another with way mo’ in yo’ pocket than a Jackson.”

Santana grumbled as she stretched out on the wall next to her old friend knowing that Aphasia would inevitably be proven right later. As always.

They leaned against the wall watching the tendrils of smoke circle up into the sky. Santana hadn’t seen Aphasia in almost a year; not since she had met up with her just to rub it in the delinquent’s face that her Glee club was a pile of shit (not that she cares about Glee or anything but). That was just how Aphasia operated though. She would fade in an out of Santana’s life, showing up whenever she got out of juvie just to make a fuss, steal some cash, and pass on some good cigars. It would upset Santana more if she didn’t appreciate having some sort of constant in her life. Especially now.

“Interestin’ how you here by yo’self with me instead of fuckin’ yo’ blond Barbie.”

Santana could feel that aching freeze of fear spreading through her chest at the words.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Gurl, I got eyes. And apparently you don’t, otherwise you’d be all up _on_ that fine, white ass.”

“Excuse you!” Santana gritted out through her teeth as she mashed her cigar out on the wall behind her.

“Mm-hm. Maybe I’ll go down to her crib den ‘cause way I hear it, she don’t want what chu got.”

Santana froze on the spot.

“…you heard about me and Brittz all the way in juvie?”

Aphasia glanced over at her terrified friend and calmly flicked the ashes off the smoldering end of her cigar. Santana shrunk into the wall just a little bit more to try and hide from the piercing stare. Fuck. Why was everyone just watching her all the time?

“Nah,” Aphasia drawled through an exhale. “I’m jus playin’. But I do got a question fo’ you.”

Santana peeked out from behind her curtain of hair and arched an eyebrow curiously.

“You ‘member when we use go to the tracks and tag the train cars until someone seen us and run us out?”

The cheerleader gave a nod in recognition. Of course she did. It was hard to forget a 300 pound train conductor trying to tackle you to the ground while you pass the spray paint off to your friend who is already booking it away without you.

“Mm-hm and you ‘member when we went in dis Speedway ri’ here and stuffed so much damn candy in our jeans that our pockets broke - all while shooting the finger at the security cams on da way out?

Another nod. Aphasia had gotten sick afterwards from the amount of Snickers she had eaten while Santana had nearly vomited from the sheer rush of it all (but the smile she had gotten from Britt after she dumped a mess of Dots on her lap had cleared any stomach issues right up).

“Pretty badass,” Aphasia grins approvingly.

Santana shrugged her shoulders, feeling her jacket scrape against the grain of the cinder block wall.

“So I guess what I’m wondering is,” Aphasia drawled out as she tosses the butt of her cigar into a nearby dumpster. “Who da hell is dis lil’ _bitch_ standing next to me now?”

Santana tensed against the wall as the words cut through her. It was hard to deny when she had definitely spent most the day curled on the couch avoiding her phone and wallowing in reality show reruns. Aphasia stomped over and slammed her hand into the wall next to her friend’s head.

“What the fuck, ‘Phasia,” Santana mumbled out as she turned her head to avoid the direct glare.

“Nuh uh. You look at Auntie ‘Phasia when she breakin’ it down fo’ you. Da Santana I grew up with fucked who she liked, stole what she wanted, and ain’t take no shit from nobody. So who da _fuck_ is you?”

Aphasia pointedly jabbed Santana in the boob.

“Sometimes I don’t know anymore,” Santana whispered.

“Then let me remind yo’ bitch ass,” Aphasia continued with another finger jab. “You are Santana Mothafuckin’ Lopez, the second terror of Lima Heights Adjacent. You gon turn on dat charm until you work yo’ way back unda dat lil’ red skirt of hers and take back yo’ girl, Mm-kay?”

Well when it was put that way, it didn’t sound nearly as daunting a task. Except.

“She has a boyfriend now.”

Aphasia cupped the hand formerly reserved for poking sense into her friend to her ear.

“I’m sorry. All I heard dere was ‘whine whine whine, I’m a lil’ bitch'.”

Santana bristled.

“If you call me ‘bitch’ one more time-“

“Mm-hm you gonna do what now?”

“I’ma go all Lima Heights Adjacent up in here!” Santana growled back.

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout! Go home and wash da smell of smoke off fo’ yo’ girlfriend finds out, you whipped mothafucker,” Aphasia crowed as she pushed her friend away.

“Fuck you,” Santana called over her shoulder, stomping back to her car.

“You wish, Lezpez.”

Aphasia reached into her jacket for another cigar, lighting it in just seconds, as Santana tore out of the parking lot shooting her the finger out the driver’s side window.

“Mm-hm, Auntie ‘Phasia done it again. And I think she deserve herself some sweet, chocolate love.”

With that she disappeared into the Speedway, lit cigar and all. There were some Snickers calling her name.


	5. Santana + Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers through 4.09 - Swan Song. Thank you jelee- for painstakingly explaining Left 4 Dead 2 to me.

Santana stared impatiently at the television screen in front of her. Her roommate was only going to be at her weekly sorority meeting for another two hours and it was already past her own pre-arranged meet time. 

She didn’t have time for this shit and she sure as hell wouldn’t be able to stomach another hour of Celine Dion to calm down her emotions. 

Finally her screen lit up with the message that ‘Trty Mth’ was online. Santana rolled her eyes at the name (“The lack of vowels makes everything 20% cooler,” Sam had assured her at the time).

“Hey sorry ‘bout that, I was out doing something and lost track of time,” Sam’s voice rang through her headset as he showed up in their private Left 4 Dead 2 room.

Santana’s heart clenched involuntarily in her chest.

“Yeah I’m sure you were doing something alright,” she grumbled back into the mic.

“Um yeah I was,” Sam responded with confusion. “Didn’t I just say that?”

“Whatever Trouty. You best be ready to fuck up some zombies.”

“’Tonight, hell freezes over!’” Sam announced in his best/worst Schwarzenegger impersonation.

She could practically feel his giddy excitement over the headset. Her stomach turned over at the thought that his good mood had to be more than zombie-killing-anticipation based. Santana clicked through the map and settings and started their two player match. 

This was their weekly tradition. Every Thursday night they would meet up in their private Left 4 Dead 2 room and kill some undead ass together. Sam got to nerd out with someone who wasn’t Artie, and Santana got to work out her end-of-week aggressions (‘cause come on, it wasn’t like she actually enjoyed playing video games – she was just trying this whole ‘being a good friend’ thing out). 

That was something she was trying very hard to remind herself of at the moment, as she felt stomach flip over again. She was being a good friend.

The loading screen faded and she was dumped into the level with Sam at her side. Sam’s character scrambled to the table to grab a gun with Santana’s close behind. Weapons in hand they charged through the doorway towards the inevitable hoards of zombie scum. 

“Fair warning: if your guppy ass makes any more awful impersonations I will not be above bustin’ a cap in it,” Santana called out into her mic as they ran head first into a room swarming with the undead. 

“I make no promises, Snixxx!”

Santana felt her eye twitch as she unloaded her gun into the nearest zombie, trying very hard not to mentally replace the face of it with a certain blonde haired boy who was still cheering happily into her headset. 

It only took a few more seconds to reach her snapping point.

“Say hello to my little friend,” Sam’s grainy Pacino voice echoed into her ear.

With that Santana started bustin’ a cap into Sam’s ass.

“Oh shit! Santana! It was just a joke I swear! No more impressions, I promise!” Sam begged. “Oh come on, I’m incap now!”

Santana simply fired on Sam’s character’s prone body until the game announced their failure to survive the level. 

“Urgh you are so lucky our stats can’t go down from that mission failure. I’d be so pissed right now.”

“Yeah. Well. Join the club,” Santana growled back. 

Her heart raced at the admission of anger. 

“Look, I’m sorry okay?” Sam’s said in his kicked-puppy voice.

Santana stayed silent as they restarted the level and they were thrown on the waterfront of The Parish, her chest tightening with anger and disappointment and a whole mess of other feelings again. Sam darted towards the table with weapons, this time sans impersonation, to grab a gun and run into the fray. Santana followed and picked up a gun before following Sam’s character, gun pointed at his back. 

“Hey, remember a few years ago when you were an asshole and cheated on Quinn?”

“Um that was an eon ago and I cheated with you,” Sam’s confused voice said into her headset. “Besides she wasn’t into me anyway so it didn’t matt-HOLY SHIT!”

Santana’s gun emptied bullet after bullet into Sam’s avatar as both he and his character shrieked about the friendly fire. 

“Are you seriously doing this now while there is a zombie attack?!”

“Yeah cause zombies are the fucking issue here, Trouty!”

The failed mission screen displayed again as Sam’s character bit the dust again. Sam’s heavy breathing echoed through her ear as the map was selected and loaded again and Santana knew there was no way she could hold it in any longer.

“Was your phone broken? Or did your lips really eat up so much of your brain you forgot to text your best friend before hooking up with her ex?”

The waterfront appeared on screen and the table of weapons materialized digitally in front of them once more. 

Sam darted toward the weapons again, but Santana’s character got there first. Her character grabbed the frying pan and Santana slammed on the joystick to face Sam. 

“A frying pan?! You can’t be serious right no-“

Sam’s voice was drowned out by the sounds of Santana’s furious button mashing and Sam’s character being smacked to the ground with the melee weapon. 

“And if you ever fucking hurt her it won’t be Rochelle busting up your face, you understand me?!” 

With that Santana slammed her fist into the xbox and her television screen went black. She spun towards her bed and crawled under the safety of her covers. Her fingers scooted under her pillow to retrieve her ipod, selecting her Celine Dion playlist.

She had at least one full hour to cry in her cave of blankets before she would have to fix her makeup and welcome her roommate back.


End file.
